eir cot,
screaming on their own account, and Mrs. Benton had awaked from the
"fortywinks" she was taking in her chair.

As a natural result of her sudden awakening she grasped the two
children who were clinging to her skirts and shook them soundly,
ordering them to "shut up to once 'fore you scare folks to death."

They were not easily pacified and she thus, fortunately, had her hands
full, for the moment, else the fear-paralyzed Wun Lung might have
fared hardly. As it was, none but Jessica had a full, clear view of
the strange visitant, since the Chinaman had closed his eyes against
it and the others had not thought to look out of doors; but she saw
it, and with critical distinctness.

For an instant, indeed, her own nerves had thrilled and her heart
seemed to stand still; the next her overpowering desire to see the
"spook" for herself had conquered her terror and she gazed with all
her might.

"It certainly looks like Pedro, with his clothes all white. And the
horse--it may be his that died--but--but----"

The ghostly steed and its rider remained utterly motionless, as if
scrutinizing the house on their own part or waiting for somebody to
appear; then, as the little girl bounded to the open window the better
to gratify her curiosity, the animal--if such it was--slowly wheeled
about and loped away. There was a sound of muffled footfalls on the
hard drive, and the vision had vanished.

Jessica still leaned from the casement watching and thinking more
rapidly than she had ever done before; but when convinced that the
apparition was really gone, she slowly retreated below stairs, passing
her mother and Ninian on the way, yet not pausing till she had gained
the side of the sharpshooter. Him she seized, exultantly exclaiming:

"Well, Ephraim, I've seen your spectre!"

"You--have!"

"And it's no more a 'ghost' than I am."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, hastily; ashamed of himself for half
regretting that the supernatural view of the matter might not be the
right one. "It isn't? Well, what is it, then?"

"It's Antonio Bernal and his horse, Nero."

"Huh! How do you fetch that? When both of them are black as my hat."

Her last, lingering uneasiness banished by his presence and the sound
of her own words, with firmer conviction she declared to him and the
others who had now gathered about her:

"I 'fetch it' fast enough. This was the way dear old Pedro used to
ride; and this is the way your 'spook' sat his h